


Lady of Gold

by nikkivfx



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Haunting, Slow Burn, Teasing, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23719471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkivfx/pseuds/nikkivfx
Summary: Beetlejuice once was royalty, but now he haunts the castle he ruled. This takes place around the late 1800s - early 1900s.
Relationships: Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Original Character(s), Beetlejuice/Originial Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

Father was a patient man on the surface. Usually quiet, but sharp, even so. Mother was particular with just a dash of simplicity. The Duke and his Duchess, a match made in heaven. Together, they had Margaret and Lucille, the princesses, and Silas, a prince. Margaret and Lucille were both brunette and brown-eyed, aged twenty-one and eighteen, respectively. Maggie was witty, Lucille inquisitive. Both were striking in their own way. Silas, a blond-haired seventeen-year-old boy, seemingly came from nowhere. He was mischievous, good at keeping secrets. Maggie and her sister had a good-hearted relationship, but Lucy had a soft spot for her brother.

This royal family, the Chattox family, had to abruptly up and leave from their home in England for business that Father had to tend to. And so, to France they went.

The palace that housed them on their trip was grand, much grander than their own home. When walked into it was immediately acknowledged as ornate, classic, tall, and beautiful. It was huge, almost large enough to make a king blush. There were twists and turns of every kind. More than enough to be explored by Lucy.

“Pick your rooms, children. I do not want to hear any bickering. Dinner will be served at seven, and everyone is expected to be there. On time, Lucille. Am I understood?”

They all stood in a line in front of their father, nodding. In unison, came a, “Yes, sir.” 

Lucy hated it a little. The obedience. She was nearly nineteen and still had to be an agreeable little subject.

Maggie found her room first. It was a lovely baby pink, her favorite color, paired with white curtains and bedposts. Silas found his second. The walls were forest green, it reminded the boy of when he spent time in the woods by their castle at home. It was where he felt most at peace. Despite taking a liking to that room as well, Lucy knew Silas would appreciate it more.

After wandering and finding most of the rooms lackluster, she decided to just pick one, the next one she opened the door to, would be her room. Her footsteps were the only thing she heard as she went past three doors. She did not feel a _pull_ to open them. The room at the end of this hall, all the way in the corner, was the one she chose. The doors were not as impressive as the rest. In fact, they were dusty and in need of a wipe-down. Inside, the walls were a dark red. The furniture was a walnut color and finish on them made the room smell earthy. The bed was a canopy, the posts stretching high, made of the same deep brown wood as the furniture. Sheer glittering gold drapes were hung meticulously from the railings. Dull gold was included subtly throughout the room. The glaze on the jewelry box, the legs of a bench at the end of the bed, the embellishments on the frame of the full-length mirror in a catty-corner. There was taxidermy of several butterflies hung on the wall opposite the bed, and even they matched the color scheme. Everything complemented each other handsomely. Lucy was content with her choice.

She took a second to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was long and wavy, it hit the middle of her back. She gained some extra weight after her pubescent years, most of it going to her hips and ass, mostly skipping over her breasts, making a nice curve in her body. Her face was heart-shaped with thick eyebrows and a button nose. There were a handful of freckles and beauty marks scattered on her skin.

Her possessions were brought to her room by an attendant. She thanked him quietly. Luscious gowns were protected by coverings, she hung them in the closet. Jewelry was put in individual boxes, she placed them in the glazed jewelry box.

She spent plenty of time putting her things away, carefully picking a home for each item. While she was organizing her shoes, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” she shouted. Another attendant entered, a different person from the one who brought in her belongings.

“Lady Lucille,” she grimaced at her full name, “Dinner will be served within the hour.” 

He eyed her on the floor, giving her a judgmental look that said _you’d better get dressed._

She thanked him sternly and after he closed the door, scrambled to be robed. Because of the time constraint, her corset was sloppy, and hair was ruffled. She figured out a trick to lace her corset on her own, but that did not mean it was easy. Taking the skirt of her dress in her hands, she dashed to the dining hall, getting confused which turns to take along the way but successfully making it there.

Everyone was already seated. They were waiting for her. She became good at excuses, considering the number of times she had been late.

“Sorry, my corset was not-”

“Sit down, Lucille.”

She stopped talking at once, and took a seat furthest from her father, next to Maggie, jaw tight. Once Father started to eat, and they would follow suit. They were usually quiet as they ate.

The food was delectable. Soup was served first, the broth was perfectly hot, soothing the throat as it slipped down. Next were sautéed vegetables served alongside the perfect amount of meat, a sauce on them that Lucy had never tasted before. She ate in proper etiquette, but she always forgot which fork was for fish and which was for meat. Father spoke.

“I am not sure how long we will be here. It could be days, maybe months. I suggest you make yourself familiar with the grounds. Children, you will be tutored while we are here.”

“Tutored in what?” Lucy queried, sounding as intrigued as she could.

“Does it matter? I will choose for you.”

She knew Father liked her the least.

She nodded at him and looked back down at her plate, internally fuming.

That night, she laid in bed but could not sleep. She tossed and turned, finding not a single ounce of comfort. With a _huff_ , she sat up in bed, kicking her feet to the side and letting them hit the floor. She grabbed her robe off the rack and wrapped it around herself tightly. She grabbed and lit her candle and went to wander about the castle’s halls.

Her candle was the only thing that illuminated her path. The ceilings were high, and from what she can see, covered in artwork. Not a single panel was left empty. Stained windows reached up to the ceiling, skillful masonry covered walls. The doors were tall and thick with oakwood that made the whole castle smell. She quite liked it, it reminded her of the raw elements of the earth. A piece of artwork hung behind a decorative chair caught her eye, it looked like a sorceress performing a spell, all phases of the moon pictured behind her. Lucy grinned, feeling connected to the painting in some way. She had always felt inexplicable attractions to witchcraft, something she never told anyone about.

There were embellished moldings and columns throughout every corridor. Except for one. This hallway was dedicated to old portraits of royalty who had passed, Lucy guessed. It was shaped oddly. The ceiling was not flat, it was pointed. As a result, the window at the end of the hall was shaped like a pentagon, and it reached from floor to ceiling. There was tasteless red carpeting on the floor. The portraits were old and dusty. She examined each of them, nitpicking at the person’s physical flaws, appreciating their overall beauty despite them. What else was there for her to do?

There was a lady with gray and black hair, dressed in a red gown. A bald man with a monocle. A man with very thick and dark eyebrows.

The next among them looked young. Probably in his early twenties. He had dark hair that was swept back and piercing green eyes. They reminded her of Silas’ walls, forest-like. There was scruff on his face, and he had thin lips, the upper one a bit fuller than the bottom. He was depicted in a pinstripe black and white suit. He looked burly. The more she stared, the more it seemed like he was smirking down at her. She did not notice at first, but she kept on moving closer and closer to the image, studying every brushstroke on the canvas. She unwillingly averted her eyes to the plaque below it, where it typically had the person’s name, status, and lifespan.

The name and status were scratched out. The first name was unreadable, but the second had less damage to it. Almost like whoever did it had become lazy. It was enough to be able to decipher most letters.

“Shoggoth,” she whispered aloud.

When she said the name, it was like she had become hyperaware of the deafening silence surrounding her. A chill ran up her spine, starting from the base working upwards until it reached her head. She was frozen. Then, she heard it.

“Go back to bed.”

It was not like it was being said to her. No. It wasn’t a voice. It wasn’t male or female. Instead, it was like she _felt_ it.

With a labored yelp leaving her mouth, she dropped her candle. It clambered to the floor, and the carpet ignited into small flames. “No, no, no!” she exclaimed, her feet stomping on the ground to extinguish the blaze. Because she caught it quickly, it was extinguished in seconds, leaving her in the pitch black.

She bolted from the hall.

She tried to remember the twists and turns she had taken, but it was harder to navigate in the dark, leaving her stranded in a passageway she did not recognize. She was panting with fear and was beginning to wish she had not left her bed at all.

All of the broad windows let in the moonlight. She could see on a door, there was a white tablet hung. She strained her eyes to read it, becoming more restless and uneasy every second she stood vulnerable in the hall.

‘S I L A S’. She knocked at once, hard enough to wake him but not frantic enough to alarm him. She heard shuffling and was soon face to face with her brother. She felt a surge of calm wash over her the moment she saw him. He looked tired, but not annoyed.

“I cannot sleep,” she admitted.

Wordlessly, he moved out of the way, opening the door for her. She did not thank him; she did not have to. She climbed into his bed, feeling the spot that was warm from him and assuming her position next to it. He slid in next to her and pulled the covers over them. They did not speak. Even after she thought he was asleep, she laid, wide-eyed, unable to stop thinking. She felt consumed by the forest green walls, just like she had under the portrait man’s stare.

“Sleep, Lucy. It’s okay,” Silas whispered.

He surprised her, for she thought he was asleep. Her breathing slowed and obeyed her brother’s command, letting his proclamation calm her. In sleep, she dreamed in ruby red and gleaming gold.

~ 

For tutoring, Father had chosen Algebra and French for Lucille, meant to challenge her. However, she enjoyed mathematics and was exceptionally good at it. The systematic nature of it agreed with her. French was a challenging language, but she was ready to tackle anything her father threw at her.

Until she met the man tutoring her. Matthew. He was young, but positively sleazy, with wandering hands and eyes, a double whammy. Lucy negated all his advancements, making it clear she was not interested in anything _he_ had to offer. She just wanted to focus on overcoming her father’s hurdles, and she’d be damned if he was going to perturb her.

He threw a suggestive comment her way, and she pretended to be aloof. A few times he tried to grab at her waist and sides, so she fake coughed and sputtered, claiming she was coming down with something, and maybe he should _back away._

After her draining first lesson, Lucy stalked back to the hallway of portraits to reclaim her candle. When she saw the painting of the witch, she knew she was going in the right direction. Her breath quickened as she went, and she considered just leaving the candle there for someone else to find. But she did not want to be blamed for the mess, and she knew she would be. She turned the corner and entered the hall.

Even in the daytime, despite the pentagon window, it was dim. She looked on the floor, but the candle was not there. Oh, God, someone already found it. Even though nothing linked her to it, she was surely in for it when they told Father. She let out a shaky breath and walked forward. She was scared. Nothing had ever compared to what she heard the night before. Or felt, for that matter. She considered cowering again, someone already knew, there was no point to go look at the picture again-

The Shoggoth portrait was empty.

Lucy blinked. She knew this was the one. The name was scratched out. There were blackened burn marks and wax on the floor! But where was her candle?

Frantically, she began looking at every portrait again, looking for the young man she saw last night. She made a checklist in her mind. Lady in the red gown, guy with the monocle, man with thick eyebrows. The frame was gray, the whole image was just background. Where was the boy?

She furrowed her brows and did not know if the chill she felt was from her own fear, or if it was a recurrence of last night. She fled from fear of the events repeating.

Not stopping until she reached her room, she noticed that a similar tablet to Silas’ door was placed on her own. ‘L U C I L L E’. She threw her door open and pressed her back against it when it was closed, breathing heavily.

She shook her head, entering her room. Maybe she would take her journal out and just write. Or continue to put her things away. Or something else, she did not know, she was distraught. She plopped herself on her bed and thought. Turning her head to the right, she saw the light glint off her brass candle holder.

The candle was set on her dresser, right next to her jewelry box. As if it had never even left the room. Whoever left it there obviously intended to not make a scene of it. And, they knew that it was hers. She stared at it in disbelief.

Lucy stood and picked it up, looking for the small indent in it that confirmed it was indeed her candle. The dent in it was caused when she was younger, she tried to scrape dripped wax off it with a knife and pressed too hard. It was imperceptible to anyone else. Lucy just knew what she was looking for.

Who else knew about it? She never told Silas; the dent was so insignificant it would never be pressing enough to tell anyone. All three children had the same holder. There were no engravements of names, initials, or anything of that nature. She shook her head as if that would help her understand.

She just wanted to write and get her mind off the situation. Yesterday, she hid her journal underneath the mattress. It was a lame hiding spot; she had a much better one at home. But she would work with what she can get. She crouched beside her bed and stuck her hand underneath. It was vacant. She reached her arm in to the elbow and swayed it back and forth, but the notebook was gone.

If someone finds that journal, she’s dead. She would die on sight from embarrassment. That was why she hid it. She wrote her feelings down, hatred for her father, _sexual experiences, oh Jesus Christ, she needed that book tucked far, far away._

She left her room to search for it at once. If anyone asked what she was doing, she would say she’s merely acquainting herself with the castle. She did not know if she would be able to mask her paranoia, though. _Who cares_ , she thought, _I need that book back._

She went searching high and low for it, checking every hallway, room, crook and crevice she could find. She even glanced in the hallway of portraits, a chill of dread passing through her as she did so. She sped on, not lingering too long.

_Something curious is going on._

Lucy tried to suppress the nagging thought in her mind that something was awfully wrong in this castle. Too many strange things had happened in less than a day. Dare she say, it was supernatural. What if the intent was malevolent?

Focus on the book. Find the book, sort out the paranormal later. In one room she checked, it was so peacefully quiet that it was eerie. The walls were dark purple, with accents of baby blue on the curtains. A window was open, letting a breeze in, swaying the curtains in its wake. Her gut told her to at least do a once over, just to check. When she opened the door fully, she noticed the wooden chair in the corner. Sitting upright on it, was her journal.

How was it that easy? Who would put it there? Lucy took a step back and looked up and down the hallway, looking for a potential suspect. There was no one.

She let the door creak open and just took a start for the book, no need for dramatics. She grabbed it in her hands and examined it. It was clean. She flipped through the pages. None were ripped or defaced. _What the fuck?_

“Well hello princess! You’ve seemed to have turned to my favorite page! If I may,” A raspy voice of a man came from behind her, she jumped out of her skin and turned to him. He simply snapped, and the open journal was transported from her hands to his, and he spoke in a mocking tone while he read, “When I laid in bed last night, I think I gave myself my first orgas-”

Her eyes widened when she realized what passage he was reading.

“Enough, no, don’t! Please, don’t,” she cried, absolutely mortified. He stopped and looked at her, smirking. She knew that stare.

“No need to be embarrassed, doll, we all do it from time to time, eh?”

“You’re... You’re from the portrait. You’re the Shoggoth boy,” she said as calmly as she could. It seemed like she’ll be getting the book and sorting out the supernatural at the same time.

“What gave it away? Was it the suit? Or, no, it had to be the empty frame, right?”

“You didn’t die?”

“Oh no, I died. Died a loooong time ago. Some laws of the realms don’t really apply to me.”

Her face pinched, and she frowned at him, past the point of disbelief that she was speaking with a ghost, “Why are you doing this? Why did you take my book?”

“It seems to me that you’re a bit more in tune with your intuition than the rest of your family. So, I experimented. I whispered to you in the hallway yesterday to see if you can hear and sense me. You can. I stole the book to see if you would come to find it. You did. I revealed myself to you to see if you saw me. You do. I think you are a little more _clairvoyant_ than most, princess. Also, you’re pretty shit at hiding things. Under the mattress? Really?”

In death, his eyes were a shimmering gold as opposed to green. His hair stood up, and it shined an emerald green. The canine teeth were sharper, he looked a little like a vampire. His pinstripe suit was tattered, face was pale, skin was bruised and mossy. She tried to swallow what he was telling her. But the combination of their newly found discovery and the fact that she was talking to a dead guy was making her dizzy.

“Who were you?”

“My name was, well _is_ , Lawrence. And you are,” he snapped the journal shut, and held it up, showing her the cover where her name was written in skillful calligraphy, “Lucy, is that right?”

She took a step towards him, snatching the book from his hand. He let her. She looked down and fiddled with the cover and asked embarrassedly, “Was there really a point to reading it, then?”

He moved closer, looking down at her face, her body heat searing his coldness. “It wasn’t necessary but, now I know everything about you. What you like, what you don’t like, _what you like_.”

“Okay! I get it!” She blushed harder than she ever had, her whole face hot to the touch. “So, now what?”

He straightened his tie and spoke like a man making a business proposal.

“Well, my hypothesis is that you are the only one in this castle who can see me. We are going to figure out why that is. Is it plain perception or… hear me out on this, don’t freak out, but… are you a witch?”

“Excuse me? You can’t be serious, there’s no way in holy hell that I am-”

“It’s a possibility, I said don’t freak out! We’re going to scope out your potential. It might not be all cauldrons and potions and spells. If it is just intuition, we can strengthen it. Don’t you want to know what you can do?”

She was silent for a moment. “It does sound cool.” She admitted, bashfully.

“Damn right, it does! We’re going on a witch hunt, princess!” He continued to whoop and carry on, and Lucy stood, lightly smiling, not being able to resist a certain charm about him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further exploring Lucy's witchiness with plenty of teasing :p

She asked him what ‘witch-hunting’ entailed. He said that first, they needed to check if she was a witch, and find that ‘special spot’ somewhere on her body. With a wink, he threw in, “I can help you there, y’know, just say please, princess.”

He asked if she had any weird marks anywhere on her skin. Besides beauty marks, there were none. He continued and said, “If we can’t find it with the naked eye, were supposed to prick you with a needle and wherever it doesn’t bleed is where the mark-”

Prick her with a needle? What was this? Was he really trying to help her? I mean, what really was his intent, why can’t we try to read about it somewhere _also no, absolutely not, Lawrence, find another damn way-_

They headed to the library. She did not talk to him; nervous someone would see her talking to herself, or worse, _him_ , and send her off to bedlam.

The library was exquisite. It went two stories high. There were stones laid expertly on the walls and gunmetal colored railings on the staircase to go up. The windows were large, letting in so much natural light it felt like they were outdoors. This palace had no shortage of decorative windows. And of course, there were shelves upon shelves of books.

“Pretty, huh?” His hoarse voice broke her from her admiration.

“It’s magnificent.”

“I used to come in here all the time. Still do, occasionally. It gave me a place to hide.”

She looked at him quizzically, but he quickly fixated her attention elsewhere.

“Come, the witchcraft section is this way.”

They found that to strengthen her intuition, she really had to tune into it. Recognize when it was speaking to her. Take a slice out of her day to exercise it. He would teach her how to meditate and feel what was within her. She was doubtful. Still, she tried it anyway, to satiate her own curiosity.

That night, she sat crisscross on her bedroom floor, eyes closed, total silence surrounding her. Her hands rested on her knees, palms facing up. She focused as best she could and tried to slip into a state of complete relaxation. There was parchment and a quill in front of her, in case she had any pressing visions.

“I-I just keep thinking about the number three.”

“Three? Three what? Quills? Books? Three rounds of _passionate_ lovema-”

“All I’m seeing is three. Nothing else.”

“Well, that’s a whole pack of nothing. Try again.”

She stood up, throwing him a look, “I think I’m done for tonight. Nothing is ‘communicating’ to me. This might be a waste of time.”

“You can’t just give up! Stick it out a little longer, and I promise if you still feel like we’re getting nowhere, you can quit.”

In any other situation, she would have refused. But this was just so bizarre she felt like she had to go through with it. And what else did she have to do here? Flirt with her tutor?

_My witchcraft coach is a ghost. What?_

At least she was having an interesting time.

~

Lawrence knew no boundaries; she should have put that together from him reading her journal with no hesitation. Despite being a teasing horny bastard, he was decent company. And once she inevitably got over that he was a ghost and all, he was actually very good at making her laugh. His chest clenched every time she giggled. She learned that his hair changed with his feelings. Green was normal, or happy. The green was so bright it nearly glowed when they were together. He could also sprout limbs on demand. It scared her at first, but once he started doing it all the time, she could overlook it. If he wasn’t coaching her, he spent time in her room with her while she studied or did work, not terribly bored, this was the most action he had gotten from a human since he died. He was happy to sit in silence if it meant he was not alone. Truthfully, she was good at making him laugh, too. She became more and more comfortable around him, not caring if she was only in a nightie while he was around. Lucy enjoyed his eyes on her bare skin, she felt rebellious and liberated. They spent more time on her inner eye, and it showed signs of it growing stronger. Coincidences kept happening. At dinner one night, she had a vivid thought of glass shattering, and not a minute later, someone on the wait staff dropped a plate made of china. While she was in the dining hall, he waited in her room. She instantly told him about it the second she opened the door, giddy that it had happened, and growing more confident because of it. Occurrences like that continued to happen.

One night they snuck out of her room and raided the kitchen for grub. She fed him weird concoctions of food for her own enjoyment. At night, he would keep her awake, draining every last bit of energy and laughter from her until her eyes could not stay open any longer. Most nights, she fell asleep with a smile on her face. Lawrence did not need sleep, but he enjoyed partaking anyway. She gave him blankets and pillows so he could sleep on the floor beside her. But every morning she found him curled at her feet like a cat, snoring away. She didn’t mind. Lucy would get up softly, look at him for a few moments, then start her routine for the day.

The tutor was getting more brazen with his salacious comments and touches. Any time he could graze her hip, touch her hand, stroke her back, he would. It physically repulsed her. It was nothing like being with Lawrence. Lucy would become tense beside him, not able to focus completely on her lesson. She grabbed his hands several times and pried them off her, placing them back down onto the table, and shooting him a glare. He was starting to push her to her limit, and this made her temperamental for the rest of the afternoon.

At dinner time, Lucy made sure she arrived extra early to the dining hall to avoid any mishaps with Father. To her annoyance, her ghost was beside her.

“Lawrence, we are about to have dinner. I cannot have any distractions, go wait in my room or something!”

“Nothing to worry about princess, no one can see me but you.” There was a playfulness in his eyes and tone.

“You don’t know that for sure! What if someone else can see you?”

“They won’t. Your family is too daft to-”

“Someone’s coming, hide!” She whispered to him after hearing footsteps. He rolled his eyes and looked around for a spot to go, not wanting to aggravate her further. He got under the dining table.

Father and Mother walked in together. Mother clapped her hands together, “Lucille! You’re early! What a nice surprise, right dear?” she looked to Father, and he simply waved his hand dismissively. Mother looked back at Lucy with a sad smile and a curt nod that said, _I’m still proud of you._ They waited for Margaret and Silas and began to eat. The whole time Lucy felt the chill of Lawrence at her toes.

“How were your lessons today, Lucille?” Mother asked.

“Oh! They were good, I think I am really starting to get a handle on French.” She smirked and glanced at her father, who looked a touch annoyed.

As they continued to babble away about nonsense above the table, Lawrence sat, frustrated, underneath it. He looked around at all the pompous get-ups they all had on. At least on their lower halves.

_I surely do not miss dressing for supper_ , he thought.

His eyes lingered on Lucy’s lower half. The princess had worn a dress that was a tad shorter than the rest of the ones she owned. The end of the skirt laid on her shin. His mouth quirked up, and he moved his face closer to her legs. Above, she spoke,

“Algebra is tough. I think I-” She was cut off by a squeak.

Lawrence was running his tongue up the inside of her leg.

Maggie looked at her sideways, “What’s the matter, Lucy?”

“Don’t call her that,” Father muttered from the head of the table.

“N-nothing! I just, um, I had a chill,” technically, she was not lying. Lawrence was as cold as ice. After the outburst, the conversation deviated to the other two siblings.

She tried to pinch his nose, pull on his ear, all things that wouldn’t look too suspicious from above the table, but nothing discouraged him. He continued to hike up her skirt slowly, kissing, licking, and nipping at her skin the whole way. When he reached the inside of her thigh, she pulled on his hair, attempting to yank him away from her, but it only spurred him on further, Lucy could tell by the strong _bite_ she received, making her yelp.

“Lucille! What has gotten into you?” Mother scolded.

“I’m, I’m sorry I-”

“Go to your room. Now!” Father demanded, shooting her daggers. He was waiting for an opportunity to snap at her since she had done everything else right.

She knew better than to argue. She pushed her seat out, kicking Lawrence ungracefully in the chest, and stomped the whole way back to her room. He was not far behind her.

“Why the bloody hell would you do that!” she yelled at him after he shut the bedroom door.

“What?” he whined, “You were all eating, I figured I’d join!” He chuckled at his own joke.

“My father already hates me! I don’t need you around to make it worse! I was finally going to show him how well I was doing in the courses that HE chose for me! But you fucked that up!”

“The classes where all the tutor tries to do is bed you?” he grumbled, not meeting her gaze.

She stared at him incredulously, “What are you, jealous? I could have any man I want, and it would be none of your business either way!”

His eyes snapped to her, and he used that consuming stare, knowing it frightened her. He took slow steps towards her until she was backed against the wall and towered over her. His earthy scent filled her lungs, it reminded her how her room and the rest of the castle smelled.

“Jealous, huh?” he chuckled, his breath hotter than she expected. “Doll, I know you could have any man, yet, you deny them. Do you know why?” He caught his tongue between his teeth, smiling slightly, knowing she would not answer, so he continued, “You have a little more self-worth than you let on. I know you won’t give it up to just anyone. I know they’ve got to be worth your time, princess. Why do you think you’ve been spending so much time with me?” His golden gaze flicked down to her lips and back up to her eyes. “I can’t be jealous of something I already got.”

She stood her ground and looked up at him with an intensity he didn’t know she had in her.

“I do not want you here tonight. Find somewhere else to prowl.” She promptly shoved him away from her. He blinked a few times and then nodded slowly. Not in understanding, more like an _alright, I see,_ nod. He left through her door and shut it softly behind him, leaving her seething against the wall.

She could feel the slickness between her legs, and it only made her angrier. Lawrence was all but shy underneath that table.

With a sigh, she flung herself onto her bed and shoved her hand into the waistband of her skirt. She stared up at the golden sheet draped above her. She thought about his eyes, the molten alluring gold. His build, he was strong, larger than herself. That rasping voice, telling her dirty things and encouraging her to go on. His tongue, the tongue he ran up her leg, further and further, biting and kissing as it went along, hoping it wouldn’t stop-

She came with a whimper, legs trembling and pussy fluttering around her finger.

She panted and silently scolded herself, but felt just a small bit of relief.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!

After the ordeal, she did not even catch a glimpse of Lawrence for the next week. She felt lonely. But certainly not because he wasn’t around. He had nothing to do with it. That was what she told herself.

Matthew was as insufferable, as always. And Father was piling the work on. Maybe it was to keep her busy, or maybe it was because he so obviously detested her.

One night in her bedroom, Lucy skipped meditation and was trying to practice her ballroom dancing. Father had _tsk_ ed at a few of her slip-ups. She was always shit at dancing. There were candles spread all around the room so she could see what she was doing, she was careful not to place them on the floor. She wore her best nightdress, a white slip that reached just below her knees. She straightened her back and tightened her frame and danced around her room with no music. Her feet stumbled over themselves multiple times.

She shook her head, sitting on the bench with her head in her hands, radiating frustration.

“Let me help you. I’m not too bad at dancing,” Lawrence said, leaned against her bedroom door, green hair a shade darker than usual. Her head snapped up; she was already irritated. Because of her anger, she felt more exposed than usual. He had seen more of her skin than any man she had ever met combined.

“How long have you been standing there?” A million thoughts were racing through her head. _Could he turn invisible? Did he watch her touch herself? If he did, oh, she would never hear the end of it._

“Long enough to see you trip over yourself, throw a hissy fit, and quit,” he got off the door and walked to her, extending a hand, “I’ll help you. Get up.”

She glared at him and took his hand, letting him pull her up. When his hand took her waist, she hissed.

“Jesus Christ, you’re like ice.”

He ignored her and simply gave her a look. She rolled her eyes and straightened her back, laying her left hand on his shoulder, the other in his hand. She let him lead her, and he was patient during her first few missteps. After the fourth, he took her chin in his fingers and brought it up.

“Stop looking at your feet. Look at me.”

Her eyes made contact with him for the first time in over a week, but she broke it quickly, unable to handle it. It was too intimate, staring at each other. So instead, she looked straight, into his chest. This time, she had not stumbled as much. When he was convinced that she would not misstep again, he spoke,

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what it meant to you.”

She looked up at his face and found it riddled with sincerity. Her heart lurched.

“I’m sorry for yelling and casting you away.”

He smiled a little. “I deserved it, really.”

There was a pause. She looked up at him importantly and asked, “Why do you call me princess like it’s a bad thing? It’s always _princess this_ or _princess that._ Why?” The question laid heavy on him, and he slowed their movements and pulled away from her.

“I never appreciated being prince,” _Ah. So, he_ was _a prince_. He moved to sit down on the bench, “The older I became, the more I rejected the position, as if I was above material things and high status. When I was a child, a relative I didn’t know we had died. We were the next of kin and were meant to live in this castle after them. We uprooted our life and came from England. My mother… she was not the nicest person. She abused me in more ways than one. I hung myself in the room you found me. I was just shy of twenty-two,” he paused, then gestured around with a finger, “This was my room.”

She smiled at the last point. “So, it just happened that I picked your room out of every possible choice in this enormous castle?” She did not want to press his suicide. He appreciated it.

“It’s that witchy thing about you, love.” They smiled at each other.

“So, because I assume you know this room best… where are the best hiding spots?”

~

The night after that, she had surprised him when she admitted she knew how to play cards. “Silas taught me after Father taught him. Do you want to play?”

He nodded, intrigued for what she had up her sleeve. She got on her knees and reached under her dresser, pulling out a deck of cards in pristine condition. He was already impressed; she had used one of his hiding spots.

“Why hide a deck of cards?”

“Father thinks it’s useless for ladies to know skills like this. I’m afraid if he found it, he would go berserk.

“Your father is kind of a prick.”

She looked at him. He was unable to read the expression on her face. He almost apologized, thinking he offended her, but then she spoke,

“Tell me about it.”

She suggested they play _Rummy_ , and she refreshed his mind, explaining the rules to him and shuffling the cards all the while. He knew how to play; he just wanted to hear and watch her talk.

They sat crisscross on the floor across from each other. Lucy tucked her dress between her legs. She let Lawrence shuffle them, then dealt them seven cards each. They played and talked; it was a good conversation game.

“Is your sister going to get married soon?”

“I’m not sure. Why do you ask?”

“Usually when a girl turns twenty their father starts looking for a suitor for them.” He lowered his voice, “After they find one for her, you’re next.”

“We have actually been proposed marriage once before. By the same man. When Maggie said no, he shifted his offer to me. I also rejected it. He was a nasty guy, named Paul. I am permitted to keep rejecting them until I am an old maiden.”

That made his chest feel less tight.

“Rummy.” She said, quietly, and showed him her hand. She had a straight flush and three of a kind.

“How did you do that, witch? We only turned over a few cards.” He eyed her suspiciously, smiling.

There was something mischievous in her eyes, “I had a good hand to begin with.”

“Another round, girl. Let me shuffle again.”

She giggled and handed him the deck, “Fine, if you think you can beat me.”

They played round after round, her winning most, but him beating her a few times. She was impressed with his hands. He was an exciting opponent. There was a lot of lighthearted smack talk being thrown around, but it only made for a more playful nature between them. During the heat of a game, he took off his jacket and rolled his sleeves up, meaning business. Lucy stared at his arms a little longer than she meant to, getting quiet. He noticed and smirked at her, a knowing look in his eyes, but he did not mention it.

Lucy began to yawn, and it reminded Lawrence of a kitten. The princess got up and walked to the window to close the curtains for the night.

“Shutting the curtains? What are we about to do, babes?” He looked up at her, teeth on display and green hair shining, a few strands of pink popping through.

“What does pink mean?” she asked abruptly, realizing that made no sense, so she clarified, “In your hair.”

“Means m’aroused. If you want to turn it all pink, you could start by dropping the gown,” he snapped and pointed a finger down, catching his tongue in his teeth. She snorted and shook her head, used to his teasing, secretly liking it.

Lucy thought for a moment. What if she did? What would he do? She looked at him meaningfully in the eyes, something he was not prepared for. He furrowed his brows in silent question but held her gaze.

She pulled her shoulders back and moved one hand up to her bicep. She let her fingers run softly on her skin, trailing to her collarbone. He gawked at her all the while. Those fingers grabbed a sleeve and started pulling down over her shoulder, gradually. His mouth dropped open the slightest bit, more pink strands infecting his hair. She mirrored the same thing with the other side, trying her best to be sexy. She guessed that it worked because his hair was almost completely magenta.

She stopped her ministrations and snapped the straps back up, “Blimey, I guess you’re really pent up, I only flashed a shoulder and you’re drooling!”

“What? I-” he was snapped out of his daze and brought a thumb up to the side of his mouth and wiped, actually checking for drool. She started to laugh, and he got onto his feet.

“Oh, you’re going to get it now, girl.”

“What are you going to do? Strangle me?”

He rushed her and she squealed. He pulled her in with one arm and wrapped his other hand around her throat, squeezing faintly. He looked down at her with _that_ stare.

“Do you want me to?”

Lucy stopped laughing and looked up at him innocently. He almost melted in her gaze. While they leaned towards each other, the chill of him was pressed completely against her. Her body wanted to shiver, but she did not let herself. He removed the hand from her throat and clutched her cheek instead, running his thumb over her lips.

He brought his face down to hers and kissed her. Both of their eyes closed with a sigh. Lawrence’s lips were plush. Lucy’s were warm. She softened in his hands and kissed him back, small arms wrapping around his waist. They pressed in closer, bodies nearly melded together.

He brought his tongue into her mouth. His mouth wasn’t that cold. She hesitated but accepted it, unsure of what to do. He was patient and started to swirl his tongue in circles around hers. She took the hint and mirrored his movements.

After some time, Lawrence pulled away slowly. Lucy’s tongue was still out, a trail of saliva on the tip of it was connected to his lower lip. Her freckled cheeks were blushed more than normal, her lips dark pink from attention. He thought she looked ravishing.

His hands traveled down and gripped at her hips, and he spun her around, so she was turned away from him. He pressed himself into her back. She gasped, loving all of him against her. She rested her hands on top of his. She realized he had turned them to face the ornate full-length mirror in the corner. When she saw herself, she was floored.

Her white gown was somewhat hiked from him pressing against her. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled. Strong hands remained on her hips, and his face started nudging into the crook of her neck. His breath was hot. He planted searing kisses where the curve of her neck met her shoulder, making her knees go weak, but he held her. It was so sensitive, and she had never felt anything like it. He licked, kissed, and bit at her, just like he did to her leg under the table. Lucy let out little moans and whimpers and instinctively pressed her ass back into him, and he groaned into her skin. Lawrence wrapped one arm around her womb to keep pressing her back, and the other hand started to progress up the inside of her thigh, into her nightgown.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” his voice was deep, and breathing was heavy, “Say the word and I’ll stop, Luce.”

A chill ran through her. He rarely ever used her name.

“Touch me,” she replied breathlessly, “please.”

He obeyed. His fingers met fuzz, and he gasped softly, he had been surprised by her yet again.

“Where are your panties, princess?” _Kiss_ , “What if your dress would have come up?”

“C’est la vie,” she smirked at him in the mirror. He wiped it off her face by cupping her pussy and pressing his middle finger against the slit. Lucy’s eyes fell shut and she ground into him.

“No,” with an extra sprouted hand grabbed her jaw, “don’t close your eyes. I want you to watch me touch you.”

She opened them, making eye contact with him in the mirror. Lawrence had her in quite the position, but it only riled her up more. He went to her shoulder and bit at her, canines breaking the skin, all while pushing his finger repeatedly up, stimulating her and making her wet. Her clitoris tingled at every push. She kept one hand on an arm and shot the other into his hair and pulled.

She was whining, and he knew he wasn’t giving her enough. He brought the tip of his finger back and swirled it at her entrance, gathering her wetness. She moaned in anticipation, but he continued to tease.

“Please,” she whimpered, “more.” He released her shoulder from his mouth, and she cried out. His tongue licked from neck to ear.

“Be more specific.” He commanded in her ear, giving her a provoking look in the mirror, hair now completely pink. She puffed, unable to hide her arousal.

“Put your finger in me, Lawrence.” She looked at him pleadingly. He did not tease her any longer and slipped his finger in to the knuckle.

_Oh, Christ._ His fingers were thicker and longer than her own, and it stretched her just enough to drive her wild. It didn’t hurt, it felt wonderful.

“Ah, shit, I knew you’d be tight. Mmm, you’re so warm too. This okay, baby?” he asked, unknowing how the word _baby_ affected her. Her pussy and stomach clenched, and she nodded her head frantically, giving her hips a restless twirl. He took the hint and started to pump the finger in and out of her, pressing his thumb on her clit. With those little jolts of electricity coursing through her, she was a moaning mess in his grip.

He started to curl the finger inside of her, and she writhed and leaned against him, getting on her tiptoes. He held her, making sure she didn’t lose her balance.

“Look at you, my girl. So beautiful,” he purred in her ear, and he felt her walls flutter, “Oh, are you going to cum? You like taking it like this?”

Lucy let out a guttural groan, “Yes.”

He sped up his movements and whispered praises in her ear. His raspy voice was a hundred times more appealing when it was saying nasty things to make her cum. He said things like _that’s a good girl_ , and _yes, cum on my hand, baby._

Her fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling when the pleasure was almost too much. She felt the tension in her stomach growing tighter and tighter, then she finally started to cum. She trembled in his hands, biting on the thumb he had on her jaw, still forming struggling cries of pleasure. It was a whole-body experience, and she saw white.

When she came down, she dropped her hands and slumped against him, body weak and tired. Lawrence planted soft butterfly kisses into her neck and pulled out of her, making Lucy quake. He was gentle when he picked her up under the knees and brought her to bed, tucking the sheet under her chin. Her breathing slowed; she was right on the cusp of being asleep. He moved some hair away from her face. Her eyes cracked open.

“Come in here.”

He did not respond. He went to blow out all the candles, and crawled in next to her, pulling her body close to his.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something important is about to happen to Lawrence...

The next night at dinner Lucy wore a dress that covered the bite marks Lawrence left on her shoulder. Dinner was mostly quiet, as usual.

“We leave in three days,” Father spoke.

“What? Is business finished?” Mother asked, the next part came in a whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me?

He ignored her second question, “No, but it was sorted out that it can be done from our own home. Begin packing tonight.” They continued to chat, and the children remained silent.

Lucy tried not to show a reaction, but she immediately thought about Lawrence. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. _Maybe he can come home with me._

After dinner, she rushed back to her room and told him the news. Grief washed over his handsome face.

“Three days? That’s it?”

“I know it’s quick, but I was thinking… maybe… you could come home with me?” She averted his stare for a moment, then glanced up, checking for his face for an answer. He wore a sad smile.

“Doll, I’m over the moon that you’d even thinking about taking me home with you,” He moved closer to her, tenderly taking her into his arms, “But I’m confined here. I think there was a curse put on me because of the way I died. Hanging isn’t the holiest way to go. Every time I try to leave the castle, I’m sent back into my portrait. I cannot leave.”

She shook her head, “There has got to be a way. I don’t want to leave.” Her voice broke, and eyes welled up with tears. Lawrence grabbed her cheeks, shushing her, and wiped her tears with the pads of his thumbs. He watched as her lip quivered and swore in his mind that she must be the most precious being in the universe.

“Do you want to get out of this dress and into bed?”

Lucy nodded, face red. She grabbed his hand and led him to the closet, bringing his hand to the back of her corset. He untied it for her and looked away before she dropped the dress. She slipped on a nightgown and turned to him, smiling when she saw him turned away. Tapping his back to let him know she was finished, she handed him her hairbrush. He chuckled and nodded. The took a seat at the bench, and he had a touch so soft that it hurt her heart and reminded her why she was sad in the first place.

In bed that night she clung to him, and he held her as she cried, and they stayed that way until she fell asleep.

~

After, thankfully, her last tutoring session, Lucy went on a mission. She headed to the castle’s extensive library, specifically to the very minute section labeled ‘W I T C H C R A F T’. She did a once over the room to make sure she would not be interrupted and got to work.

She skimmed the contents of each book, writing down on a sheet of parchment what could be useful. There were spells, potions, herbs. But none gave insight on how to break a ghost out of a curse.

“What if you could break a curse with another?” She murmured to herself. The largest book was bound by leather and twine, and it was as thick as her little finger. She searched cover to cover, not satisfied until she found the seventeen-page chapter on curses.

~

“We have to curse you.” Lucy slammed the bedroom door behind her, heavy book in hands.

“Not a day ago you were asking me to move in with you. Now you want to curse me?”

“No, Lawrence, we might be able to break your curse with a second one!” She spoke animatedly, “It’s like a summoning charm, but it’s pretty binding. When you’re called, you can’t reject it. It can also expel you if said again. But if we do this, no one else has to know how to summon you. Therefore, it can’t be used against you.”

“My witchy, witchy girl,” He got up, taking leisurely steps towards her, “I trust you completely. No harm in trying, eh?” She beamed up at him, ecstatic that he agreed. He continued to speak, appearing serious, “Look, uh… Even if it doesn’t work, thank you for trying. You didn’t have to go through all of this for me. I’m grateful for the effort. And God, I hope it works, I’m not sure if I can be away from you.” He shook his head and bowed it down. She grabbed his hand and looked up at him expressively.

“Let’s get started.”

~

After supper, the pair sat on Lucy’s floor, candles lit in a wide circle around them and curtains shut, blocking out all light.

“We’ve got to pick a name for you. Something you won’t mind being called by for the rest of eternity. How about after an animal?”

“No, what about… after a star?” She quirked her eyebrow and nodded, liking the sound of it already.

“You seemed to have put some thought into this already. Do you have one in mind?”

“Not really. Write down some ideas,” He told her, and she immediately penned seven of her favorite stars, all in different constellations. She read them back to him, and most of them were too frilly.

“Pollux is okay, not my favorite. I like Arcturus. If we can’t think of anything better, I’ll take that name.”

“I don’t want you to be named something you don’t love. What about,” she traced down the list to the next one in line, “Betelgeuse?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide, a smile lighting up the rest of his face.

“I like that one. I _really_ like that one.” He continued to nod to himself and whisper the name repeatedly. She was delighted to hear it.

“Okay, give me a moment.” She dove her head down and began writing, then scratching some words, then writing again. It took her a few minutes, then she handed the paper over to him. It read:  
_  
The Shoggoth boy, once a prince of a castle,  
Now wishes to leave, and travel.  
The one who died by noose,  
Name him: Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse.  
_  
“That is pretty catchy! But why do we need it?”

“We need something to identify you but also distinguish how we want to curse you. We shouldn’t name you just once, or else every time someone says the name, you would be summoned. And three is just more…”

“Pleasing?”

“Exactly!”

“How do we do it?”

“Well, I… have to picture something bad happening to you while I chant.”

“Whatever you have to do. Let’s hope my lessons worked, doll.” He threw her a sweet smile that melted her heart. _Please, let it work. I don’t know if I can be without him._

She sat up tall and begun reading the preface, filling in the respective blanks.

“I, Lucille Chattox, wish to curse an entity. His name is Lawrence Shoggoth, a ghost who still roams the earth. I wish to condemn him with a name, something he must respond to, no matter how much he desires to refuse.”

With that, she focused on Lawrence in her mind and thought about him hanging himself. How terrible it must have been. Did he suffer? What was his state of mind? Did he torture himself? She imagined him giving up, accepting his death the moment he kicked the chair out from under him. The thought brought her close to tears, but she started to chant until she felt that it was enough.

When she was able to stop thinking about his hanging body, Lucy relaxed. She peeled her eyes open and looked at him. She eyed him up and down. He didn’t look any different.

“How do you feel?”

“Super cursed, babe. That was hot.” He wasn’t joking, his hair was tinged pink.

She stood up, looking serious, “Lawrence, now isn’t the time. Let’s go see if it took. Where’s the furthest you can go before you get sent back to the portrait?”

“I can’t get passed the gates.” He stood up with her.

“You stay here. I’m going to go outside of the gates and chant the name. You should appear next to me after I do so.”

He suddenly looked very serious too. She threw a wrap around her shoulders and clutched her candle in hand. He gave her an encouraging nod. She nodded back and shut the door to their bedroom behind her.

While she made her way outside of the castle, she was careful not to be seen. She successfully got beyond the gates by going through a gap in the bushes just big enough to fit herself through. Lawrence showed it to her when they went on a walk outside once. She made sure her candle didn’t ignite the leaves, that was the last thing she needed.

She situated herself about twenty yards from the gate and put the candle on the ground. It was cold and quiet, but she wasn’t scared. She closed her eyes and breathed out.

_Please._

“Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse!”

In a few moments, a few _very long moments_ , he appeared next to her, feet planted firmly on the ground. She blinked, unable to believe it.

“You’re outside of the castle.”

“I am.”

“It worked!”

“It did!”

She jumped into his arms, and he spun her around. Lawrence felt like he could finally breathe. After centuries, he may finally come and go from the castle. Maybe was not the most conventional. He may not be able to walk out the front door, but it was something.

In the last few days, the pair experimented. Lucy would walk somewhere off the castle’s grounds and chant his new name. He’d appear next to her with a _pop_. Every time was just as exciting as the last. They were trying to make sure that he wouldn’t just get thrown back inside of his portrait. He never did.

Lucy packed her belongings little by little each day, making sure she did not leave anything behind. The morning they were leaving, her possessions were taken by the help. She and Lawrence stood in their room together.

“We are going back to England by boat and carriage. We should be home within a few days. When everyone is situated, I will call you to me.”

“I will be waiting.”

Her façade to act cool and collected broke with a whimper, and she rushed into him. He gathered her in his arms.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“It’s going to work. It worked every other time, why should this one be different?”

“Because, because I-” he hushed her by pulling her into a bruising kiss. When he pulled away, she was silent.

“No more worrying. It is done. Use what I taught you. You feel in your gut that everything will be okay, don’t you?” She looked at him, tears coating her lashes, “I know you do. Go on, now.”

They embraced each other for a few seconds, and he followed her into the hall. He watched her leave until she turned the corner, out of his sight. He wiped away a tear, unable to keep the pang of worry from filling his own chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he got his name!! the poem was inspired by how Lydia summons Beetlejuice in the cartoon. I hope you enjoyed :)


	5. Chapter 5

Going home was dreadful. Every moment her mind was consumed with images and thoughts of Lawrence. _What if it didn’t work?_ She would not be allowed to go back on her own. _What excuse could I make to go back?_ Father probably would not even let her, knowing that nothing could be so important, especially when it had to do with her. The family traveled for a few days, the whole time in close proximity to one another. If they were more spread out, maybe she would have called him then. But she could not risk her parents knowing their secret, in fear that it would be pried from her, or that she would be shunned, because she knew she would be. 

“Did you enjoy our stay, children?” Mother asked them while they were in the carriage.

“It was rather beautiful there,” Maggie said while nodding.

“The food was good,” Silas said, making the ladies giggle.

The family turned their head to look at Lucy. She felt her breath hitch.

“Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.”

She caught the eyes of her siblings, and they both looked at her knowingly. She eyed them back in a benevolent manner, not fearful that they might have known what she meant. _What could they know? What did they encounter?_

Mother only nodded, satisfied with their responses, and they went back to silence.

Her family ate as soon as they walked through their castle’s doors. After that, Lucy unpacked and put away her belongings in record time. When she was finished, she sat down on a chair with a sigh and thought about him again. She was scared to try. _Maybe he’s waiting,_ she said to herself. _Get on with it._ She took a deep breath and whispered his name.

“Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse.”

Moments passed. Too many moments. It had never taken so long. She let herself succumb to the tears welling up in her eyes and put her head in her arms, taking shaky breaths.

She did not hear the faint _swoosh_ over her loud thoughts and sobs.

“Princess, I think you did it.” Her head snapped up at his gravelly voice, and she felt a chill infect her to her bones. His smile was as dashing as ever. He was just how she left him.

“Lawrence!”

She jumped onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, and started to pepper his face in kisses. She talked between pecks, saying, “You’re here! It worked! Oh, God, I was worried for days! What did you do after we left? Oh, I missed you!” She nuzzled her face into his neck, inhaling the scent of him. She did not mind that he was freezing. He would warm up soon enough.

“I waited mostly. And took a last walk ‘round the castle. I don’t think I’m going to miss it too terribly, though. I’m happy to see you, doll.” He wrapped his arms around her tighter and held her up against him.

When she was secure that she smothered him enough, she started showing him around her room and the castle when nighttime came. In the wee hours of the morning, they fell into bed together.

For the rest of the night, and every night after, they held each other close, feeling like they were right where they were meant to be.

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story is so near and dear to my heart. I adored their journey, and I hope you did too. thank you so much for reading. xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> I adored writing this, and I can't wait to share the rest of it. I hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!


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